


atrophy (how to disappear completely)

by orphan_account



Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Eating Disorders, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Insecurity, Introspection, its not that sad yet i promise, pretty light hearted beginning for these tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-08 17:02:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14109960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: it was really only a matter of time.or, aleks encounters the concept of self loathing again, this time in a brand new light.





	atrophy (how to disappear completely)

Aleksandr was never really one to read YouTube comments. Most of them were bullshit; made by people too young, dumb, or a mix of both to have access to the internet. Besides just the act of reading them, he was a damn adult. Strangers on the internet didn’t bother him too much anymore. (If they did he’d have been out of a job long ago.) 

 

So it’s a mystery, a big stupid question why he finds himself traversing through the comments on the latest video. He hadn’t really gotten there of his own accord, he thinks; his fingers moved on their own while reviewing the upload, and now he’s stuck in this middle school-esque roast session.

 

The majority is harmless- timestamps and remarks about things in the video- but who the hell listens to the positive comments right? Aleks isn’t a kid, he can take some criticism. So he keeps scrolling.

 

       “it’s funny seeing aleks and james switch weights. idk what james did but maybe aleks should hop in on that lmao”

Aleks rolls his eyes. He knows he’s gained weight, but it hasn’t been that drastic. Hopefully.

 

       “im crying aleks… honey…. eat a salad”

Fuck off. There’s a lot of responses to this comment, and he decides to view all. Out of anger. Yeah. Angry. He’s so mad, he’s going to read all these comments. Because he’s angry. Right. Good.

 

       “salad isn’t gonna help that boy anymore”

 

       “eating is the OPPOSITE of what he should be doing lmao”

  
  


He blows out a sharp breath, pushing away from the screen a bit. Wow. Okay. That’s enough for now. Aleks shuts his laptop down and elects to have a little Depression Nap to repress those memories for a while. God he hates comments. Is he that fat? No. No? It’s been a good while since he last weighed himself, but no one has mentioned anything to his face about it. Maybe he should break out that scale, just to be safe.

 

What the fuck dude? He blinks suddenly, confused at his own stupid brain. Those are probably by fucking 13 year olds who make fun of people on the internet for attention from strangers. He doesn’t have the time or energy to waste brain cells on them. Fuck the comment section. He’s an adult with a successful career, there’s no reason he should even be thinking about this shit. 

 

He laughs to himself a little, and gets up to order something for dinner.

* * *

 

      “Okay but like do  _ you _ think I look fat though.”

 

He finds himself posing the same question to all his friends, who either say a very forced sounding ‘no,’ or dodge the question entirely. In this case, he’s casually wandered over to Asher, who has somehow found a way to say that Aleks is not fat because ‘well i don’t know i haven’t heard anyone say you’re fat man you look fine dude everyone thinks you look fine man.’ 

Aleks is dumbfounded.

 

The only person he hasn’t asked is James, so he scoots his rolling chair across the floor to bother some validation out of his best friend. 

 

       “Am I fat?”

 

James looks him up and down, scrutinizing; preparing Something to say, and the longer he’s silent the more anxious Aleks feels.

 

       “Nah.”

 

That’s it. He turns back to his desk, effectively ending the ‘conversation’ entirely. 

Alex is dumbfounded-er. None of his friends have anything to say about his weight at all. Nothing. None of them even try to be fake caring and offer empty support. That’s what he’d been looking for after all-  _ no aleks you aren’t fat aleks you look great aleks we love you aleks-  _ a few empty compliments, please? 

But no. No one reassured him after he didn’t ask for any reassurance whatsoever, so now he’s going to be upset about if for a while. 

Back at his own desk starts thinking. A big think, the kind of think you save for Saturday nights alone with glasses of white wine and staring at the wall. The denial wall cracks a bit, and the tiny Aleks that lives in his head mumbles a quiet concession that maybe, perhaps, he is just a little pudgy. A tad. No one wants to make him feel bad, but no one wants to lie to him either. Shit. 

 

Then someone calls his name, and it’s back to work. He doesn’t have time for worrying about stuff like this. He isn’t in high school anymore. There’s shit to do.

* * *

  
  


‘Shit To Do’ only lasts about 8 hours, and then he’s back at home in the same position he’s found himself assuming the past week or so - legs up on the couch, Alcoholic Beverage of the Day in his hand, and laptop balanced on his knees. This time, he doesn’t indulge his lizard brain of its need to know what strangers think of him. Instead, he partakes of the much more healthy business of asking Miss Google what the average twenty something of his height should theoretically weigh. If his friends won’t tell him, 10 million articles will. (only about half of this ‘research’ contains quizzes from a certain buzz news website that may or may not be along the lines of ‘If You Check 12 Out of 24 of These Things, You Might be a Little Curvalicious.’)

 

The distraction wears thin at around 45 minutes. He’s hit that universal millennial wall where switching between tabs of the same shit for a few hours isn’t enough anymore, and the glass in his hand is long empty. He swirls the ice around in the glass, watches it melt. Watches the watery reflection of his own, stupid, awful face in the liquid morph and move with the careening of the glass, and feels an angry tightness begin to form deep in his chest. A watermelon seed planted years ago, maybe even decades ago, begins to take root along his ribs, and finally Aleks understands.

 

He shuts his laptop with a decisive click, clunks the remains of his drink in the sink, and tries to sleep.

 

 

It doesn’t work very well.

**Author's Note:**

> hey if you liked this leave me a note on tumblr @ alekswilson !! thanks for reading, i hate it already :)


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